When I landed in Seattle after a week of work in Victoria, BC, I was hungry and hopeful.
In less than four hours, I would be playing golf with my former principal and friend, Plato, at his golf club on Whidbey Island.
I couldn’t solve the hunger problem. Upon landing, I was sent to passport control, so I couldn’t walk through the terminal and grab breakfast. I’d ultimately be taking a ferry to Whidbey Island, so I thought I’d maybe grab something at small cafeteria on the boat.
As I climbed into Yared’s Uber for the ride to the ferry station about an hour away, he asked how I was doing
“Good but hungry,” I said.
“Oh,” he said. “Why don’t we go through a McDonald’s drive-thru on the way to the ferry terminal?”
No better words have ever been spoken. Also, he didn’t ask me to add McDonald’s as an additional stop on the app. He was offering to prolong our ride at his expense so I could get an Egg McMuffin.
Yared is clearly a saint.
As we exited the airport and hit the highway, I received a text message from ShipSticks — the company I use to send my golf clubs to my destination so I don’t need to carry them through the airport. Plato’s address on the delivery label was off by one digit, so FedEx hadn’t delivered my clubs the day before, but they had called me and arranged for a courier to deliver them at the country club by 11:00 AM so I would be ready for our noon-time tee time.
But the text message said the courier was not available, so my clubs wouldn’t be delivered until Monday, when I’m flying home. This meant I’d have no golf clubs all weekend, which was supposed to be a weekend of golf.
Disaster.
Then a second text message told me my golf clubs were at a FedEx center in Everett, Washington, where I could retrieve them if I wanted.
I groaned.
Yared asked what was wrong.
I explained the situation.
Everett, Yared explained, was on the way to the ferry. A short detour would be required, and the FedEx center opened at 9:00 AM, meaning we’d need to sit in the parking lot for about 15 minutes, waiting for the doors to open, but yes, we could make that happen.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
So I added a second stop in my Uber app, and away we went. During the 90 minutes I spent with Yared (including time in the McDonald’s drive-thru and sitting in the parking lot at FedEx), we talked. He asked me questions about my life, and I did the same. I learned about his career, his fiancée, his hopes and dreams, and more.
By the time we arrived at the ferry terminal, I had an Egg McMuffin in my belly, my golf clubs in hand, and joy in my heart. I was happy to have solved this potentially weekend-busting problem, but even better, I had spent time getting to know a person who I liked and admired a great deal.
As we parted, I handed him a generous tip and a slip of paper with my contact information. Yared had been dreaming of writing a book about his five years as an Uber driver for a long time and had even taken pages and pages of notes on rides, customers, and crazy encounters, but he thought actually writing a book was impossible.
Something only a precious few people were capable of doing.
But after spending time with me, asking questions and receiving advice, he had found hope and possibility. He planned to begin the book immediately, so I asked him to keep me abreast of progress.
I played golf with Plato and two of his friends that afternoon, and I have two more rounds of golf ahead of me before I fly home. We’ll also share meals and stories and likely laugh a lot.
The time on the golf course will be joyous, memorable, hilarious, heartbreaking, exhilarating, and at times, unforgettable.
But I’ll remember Yared, too — a man who joined me on a tiny road trip to solve a problem but filled our time with conversation, inspiration, and laughs.
It’s an odd thing — climbing into a stranger’s car so they can drive you somewhere. Two decades ago, this would’ve seemed like insanity, but today, it’s normal, safe, and convenient. And if you choose to talk to your Uber driver, as I always do, and if you end up on a small adventure with that Uber driver, as I did yesterday, connections and memories can be made.
I hope to hear from Yared soon, informing me that chapter one of his book is done, his fiancée has chosen a wedding date, and high gas prices that are making it hard for his business have subsided.
